Dead and be Damned
by Kirei L
Summary: Jack Sparrow is a pirate and a good man, but Will Turner is a good man and a pirate. There is a difference.


**_Dead and be Damned_** (a series of ficlets)  
**series:** Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest  
**warnings:** mild slash, morbid humor, angst, canon pairing references, really awful puns, even worse literary devices, **spoilers **for Dead Man's Chest  
**notes:** These are in chronological order, but that doesn't necessarily mean that one piece is related to another.

**  
****01 : Forging a Conscience (Gibbs, Jack, Jack/Will)**

Gibbs is, he realizes, entirely too old (sober) and entirely too sentimental (superstitious), to ride out this storm. _Again._

_Pearl's_ crew has to work double for the missing manpower, and Jack helps as much as able until he's needed to plot their course "up river." Gibbs quickens through the companionway, just reaching the captain before he ascends the stairs.

"Will Turner is a good man."

Jack's expression is puzzled, but Gibbs has known him long enough. He's patient as the captain rifles amongst a coat pocket, consulting his only _working_ compass.

"_And_ a pirate." Jack squints down- taps the glass facing.

Gibbs is reminded of a time Jack was so pissed, he discussed the merits of matelotage with his various accoutrements.

"Aye, sir. And a pirate."

The captain blinks at him then, looking for the world as if he's only just noticed Gibbs' presence. His smile is deliberate and sharp. It falters around the edges.

Gibbs has known him _too_ long.

"Surely, Cap'n! There be other irons in the fire?"

"Ah, but Mister Gibbs, _this_ iron-" Jack, perhaps remembering a well-wielded oar to the skull, has the good graces to visibly flinch and take inventory of the surrounding crewmen.

"_This_ iron, is the most _malleable_."

The compass snaps shut with a flourish of grimy fingers, and Gibbs is able to recognize it for the dismissal Jack means.

_The Black Pearl's_ made way and her sails full with wind before Gibbs finds a moment for the drink he desperately needs. At the helm, the captain's eyes keep straying from the horizon, his hand gone still upon the wheel. Across rope and deck and salty spray, Jack watches the Turner lad until their gazes meet.

Jack turns away.

Will does not.

Jack Sparrow is a pirate and a good man, but Will Turner is a good man and a pirate. Gibbs knows there is a difference.

**  
02 : Ten Fathoms Deep on the Road to Hell (Jack, Jack/Will?)**

All things considered (including everything Jack had considered un-considering), Jack considers today a good day to die.

Decades from now the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow will still live on. Nassau sailors will warn of a man that sacks forts without aid of pistol or powder, and Turkish prison guards will conceal garlic-laden rosaries in their pockets. Even the most pious of the clergy will hesitate during confessionals- lest they find themselves trussed and naked.

But in Port Royal, he wonders if there will be tales of a different sort.

Fathers will keep their daughters under key, their wives under thumb. There will be talk of a Lady turned pirate amongst the debutantes, and a smithy with fires that stay lit throughout the night betwixt the drunkards. Black-hearted Jack Sparrow, who bargains the immortal soul of the closest thing he's ever had to a mate, just to get a leg over.

It isn't the legacy that Jack had hoped for the boy.

Jack's never had time for regret; he isn't nearly that altruistic. The lad will pardon him this bloody cropper, and with time, even forgive his bit of all right. Will Turner is just that sort.

So the captain of _The Black Pearl _scoops up his Kraken-mucked hat, and pretends the pressure beneath his chest is only resignation. Because Jack Sparrow is just _that_ sort.

Jack's never had time for regret, but today is a good day to die.

All things considered.

**  
03 : Peas in a Pod (Jack, Davy Jones)**

Purgatory is Hell.

Jack Sparrow has lost his ship, his life, and his soul. He _hasn't_, however, misplaced his grasp of irony.

Jones' locker bears nothing but sand for as far as you care to look, and Jack stopped caring to look after the first minute of his eternity. One hundred years as _The Flying Dutchman's_ barnacle suddenly seems appealing. Ambrosial, even.

Tobacco smoke curls about Davy Jones' tricorn, an otherwise patient escort to Jack's sandy perpetuity.

"It's not woefully bad. That's not to say it's good, mind." Jack's hand flicks hip-high. "A bit in-between, if it pleases you."

Jack shrugs, grins.

"More or less."

A single tentacle twitches in frustration, and Jack's smile glints gold.

Purgatory is Hell, Jack thinks, but damn his soul if he'll let Jones leave satisfied. Misery loves company.

**  
04 : His Legend Still Sails (Anamaria)**

Anamaria is docking in Barbados when she first hears word.

_'Aven't you heard?_

It's a modest sloop, one she only recently legally obtained.

_The Shining Ray's_ captain was an aged man, but no less capable than the other merchant sailors in the Caribbean. Anamaria had respected him. When he didn't boot her off the ship for being a woman, she even liked him.

_Aye, 'tis true! Every word._

She stayed-on with Captain Fletcher and before long found herself as first-mate. The work was hard, but honest, and Anamaria found it no less thrilling without the threat of navy and noose.

_Gone fer real, I've heard tell._

But Fletcher took ill during the rainy season, and his old bones couldn't fight off the fever. After naming Mister Aury (Anamaria) sole proprietor of _The Ray_, they were bound for Barbados for a shipment of sugarcane.

Captain Fletcher died within a fortnight. He was buried at sea.

_Not a single plank left- down to the depths!_

The crew stayed somber for the rest of the voyage, but now Anamaria finds death doesn't hinder their work ethic. Her orders are followed like a captain expects, and they make port no differently from times passed.

She wonders how many deserters there will be come morning.

_Took all the crew, too, save for a few._

At customs an officer makes her sign documents she sees as mostly useless. A bit of parchment and ink won't save the cargo from pirates. _She_ knows.

On the third page of sloppy X's and illegible _Mister Antiere Aury'_s, Anamaria realizes she hasn't yet named her ship.

_Her_ ship. Bless ol' Captain Fletcher.

_God bless his soul, if he be havin' any to spare fer pirates._

That night Anamaria lights a candle at the helm and prays. She isn't sure to whom she speaks, but she _is_ sure of what she asks.

_That foul beast! Sent him and The Black Pearl straight to Jones' locker, it did._

At daybreak, unexpectedly, all hands are present and accounted for.

The crew looks on as Anamaria christens her sloop _The Legacy_ over a bottle of rum.

_Captain Jack Sparrow is dead._

---

**pissed- **As in drunk.  
**matelotage-** The pirate equivalent of gay marriage.  
**irons in the fire- **An old euphemism that means 'having or pursuing other opportunities simultaneously.' Blacksmiths keep multiple ironworks on the fire because they take so long to reach a malleable temperature, and then cool very quickly once the hammering begins. To maintain a steady work-line, smiths heat and alternate multiple pieces on the coals.  
**get a leg over-** Copulate.  
**bloody cropper-** A great, big, fucking disaster.  
**bit of all right- **(Impolite) slang, that refers to Elizabeth as Will's girlfriend.  
**purgatory-** In Dante's Divine Comedy, purgatory is a circle of sinners that exist between Heaven and Hell. Souls in purgatory are neither completely good nor bad.  
**sloop-** Sloops are small, swift sailing vessels that could carry about 70 men and 14 cannons. Historically, pirates actually favored the sloops' agility instead of the large, three-masted warships you see in film.


End file.
